Avalon
by Vampire-Badger
Summary: Sequel to Feathers and Flight. Fantasy/Wingfic AU. Evie is the one that's spent her whole life dreaming of wings, but Jacob's the one that can fly. But with his wings come other things. Strange dreams, of hidden lands, magic-and dragons.
1. Chapter 1

Evie is flat on her back on her bed, listening to the sound of Jacob pacing back and forth on top of the train. He does that now, almost every night—Evie isn't sure when he'd last slept. Maybe that's another gift of the wings, Jacob's ability to keep going, night after sleepless night. She hopes so, because if he still has a human need for sleep, he might just drop dead of exhaustion one of these days.

Henry comes in and sits next to Evie on the bed. "He's up there again, isn't he?" he asks.

"Yes," Evie says.

For a moment they are silent. Jacob's footsteps are quiet above them, but they can still hear him.

"I should go talk to him," Evie says.

"Again?" Henry asks. His hand finds hers on the bed and he squeezes gently. "Evie, you've done nothing _but_ talk to him since he's come back. It hasn't helped."

"I know." Because Jacob's been distant, almost unreachable, ever since they killed Starrick together. She wants her brother back, but it's like he's gone somewhere she just can't reach. "But what if… I might find the right words this time. I might be able to help him—"

"But you can't take the wings away," Henry says.

Evie flinches but nods. It's killing her, that the wings she has always wanted are hurting her brother so badly. "This isn't how things were supposed to go," Evie says. "It was supposed to be me." And all her life, she'd thought that meant she was better than him. The better assassin, the better person even. Now she just wishes she could take his pain, and bear it herself instead.

"You've tried everything," Henry says. "I know you have. But Evie… maybe he just needs time."

"He had time," Evie says. "He had time while he was on his own, he had nothing _but_ time."

She pushes herself off the bed, and is halfway out the door by the time Henry calls her back. "Evie!"

"I have to talk to him," Evie says. "I'm sorry, Henry, but I have to go talk to Jacob."

"Evie—"

"Just one more time," she says, and she knows even as she says it that it's stupid, Jacob's not going to magically spring back to his old self, she'll never find exactly the right words. But she has to keep _trying_ , she has to. If she ever stops, she'll be as broken as Jacob.

And Henry knows it. "Good luck," he says. "I'll be here. When you come back."

Evie nods and goes up to the roof—Jacob is on the other end, facing away from her. He's stopped pacing, at least for the moment, and Evie pauses to just look at him for a minute. He looks no different than he had the night before, no better and no worse.

"Jacob," she calls, and this time he remembers to put on a smile before turning around.

"Hey, Evie," he says, and—is Evie imagining it, or does he seem more eager than usual as he walks toward her and drops down to sit at her side? Evie joins him, in what is rapidly becoming her habitual position next to him.

"Can't sleep again?" she asks. It's her usual opening salvo, and she knows Jacob will answer with a casual _nah, not really tired_ and leave her fumbling for something else to keep the conversation going. It's been a month since he's come home. Thirty days, and they've had this conversation thirty times. Evie intends to keep having it until something changes.

And today, something does.

"Could if I wanted to," Jacob says, and his voice is thick with exhaustion.

"But… you _don't_ want to?"

Jacob glances sideways at her, huddled up under the shadow of his wings. There are bags so thick and heavy under his eyes that Evie wonders how he manages to keep them open. "Nightmares."

Evie struggles with this for a moment. This is more than Jacob has shared with her since he's come home, and Evie doesn't want to speak quickly and ruin the little bit of progress it represents. "Do you want to talk about them?" she asks at last.

He's going to say no. Evie's ready for him to say no.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Jacob says.

Evie gapes at him, surprised and hurt. She wishes he'd just said no. "Yes you are," she says. "You belong here. With me."

"I know," Jacob says, and he sounds incredibly frustrated. "I know! But there's… something. I don't know. There's something in me that wants to go… somewhere." He drops his head into his hands, the very picture of misery.

"South for the winter, maybe?" Evie asks. It's a poor attempt at a joke. In happier times, Jacob would have booed her, and probably spent the next several weeks reminding her how poor her sense of humor is. Today, he just shrugs.

"Dunno," he says. "Guess it's possible, the way things are now."

"Jacob…" Evie bites her lip. "I was joking."

"I know," Jacob says. "Wrong time of year for that. And anyway, it… feels different. And when I sleep, I have these dreams."

Evie waits as he struggles.

"I can't exactly remember them," Jacob says. "But I'm dreaming about—about _somewhere_ , and I have to go there—"

"Where, Jacob?"

For a second he doesn't look at her. Then he raises his head, and his eyes are oddly vacant. "Avalon."

"What?" Evie frowns and—when Jacob doesn't answer—nudges him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jacob blinks and shakes his head. "What's what supposed to mean?"

"Avalon."

"What's that?"

The circuity of this conversation is getting annoying. "I don't know," Evie says, doing her best to stay patient. "You're the one that said it."

"Evie—" Jacob looks genuinely baffled. "I didn't say anything."

"But you did," Evie insists. "I heard you, Jacob."

For a long moment they're both silent, watching one another with the same expression, like they're both expecting the other to laugh and admit they're joking. Neither does, and the train thunders on below them until Evie tires of the silence. She bids Jacob goodnight, and goes back down to the bed where she knows Henry will have fallen asleep waiting for her.

But she is hopeful tonight, because at least she has somewhere to start, something to look into. And if she can figure out where this place is, maybe she can figure out why Jacob is being… called there. And if they know why, maybe he'll be able to sleep again. And once he's sleeping, maybe he'll be less worried, less upset—

Evie curls up at Henry's side and closes her eyes, but her mind is racing. Above them, Jacob's footsteps go back to pacing, and then stop abruptly. Something large and winged shoots past the window—Jacob, going for his usual nightly flight. It's the only time it's safe enough to do so. Daylight makes his wings stand out too much. Evie doesn't worry about him, or at least no more than usual. Maybe even less. She has a lead, at last. Something to look for, something that might actually help.

 _Avalon_.


	2. Chapter 2

Jacob has never considered himself a coward, and for this reason he sees nothing wrong with admitting to himself that he is afraid. Not to other people, no. Never. That would be a blow to his pride, and frankly Jacob's pride has too many holes in it already. Every time someone looks at him and sees only his wings, it's like a bullet wound. Every flinch and double take is another fresh injury. And every sneer, ever muttered _freak_ tears a piece of him away as well.

So he can't afford to admit to anyone else that he's afraid, not even Evie. But to himself, absolutely. Jacob is afraid of his nightmares, and he doesn't know what to do about them. They're… more than any other nightmare Jacob has ever had before. They hurt, they tear him apart, and they're _true_. Whatever that means, because they're impossible, aren't they?

The things he dreams about, the things they see, he can't… well, Jacob can't really believe things like that exist. He can't believe people would do things like the things he dreams about, _hurt_ each other like that. Jacob is an assassin, he is used to death and pain. And even if he hadn't been, growing wings would have been an introduction to a fresh new kind of pain. But the kind of hurt he dreams about… that's different.

Every night, when exhaustion drags at his limbs and tries to pull him into sleep, Jacob takes to the skies instead. He flies for hours, feeding off the adrenaline that comes from flying. Adrenaline that comes from defying gravity, defying death, and doing it all under his own power. Jacob will fly until his shoulders ache, and then he'll come back to the train. Usually it's dawn by then, or close to it, but today Jacob is more tired than usual. He comes back early and falls onto his couch. Not to sleep, just to rest for a while.

Well—maybe just to close his eyes. He doesn't want to have the dream again, but he can just rest his eyes for a minute, he can just let them close and sit here with his wings wrapped around himself like a blanket. And he can close his eyes, and…

Sleep comes reaching up with black arms to claim him. Jacob is tired, he is so tired—he can't fight it a moment longer. He gives a little half hearted sob and curls into himself as sleep crashes over him like a breaking wave, and the dreams begin.

 _Pain—_

 _His mind fragments under the pain, and he sees the world around him in shards like pieces of a broken mirror. There is blood on the ground and fire all around, and the fire comes from him. It pours from his mouth and the Enemy backs away. Even with all their power, they are nervous. They are afraid of him, but he is afraid too._

 _Something enormous soars past overhead, roaring like a creature out of nightmare, and he knows he should be in the air with it, fighting alongside it. They are brothers, they are two of a kind. Fire leaps from the creature's mouth, dancing through the hole where the roof of the laboratory used to be. It washes through him and over him, and does not harm him._

 _It would have, yesterday, but his body is no longer his, there are wings on his back, and his skin is covered up with scales The largest is bigger than a human skull, and they are all hard as diamonds. He is no longer human. They have changed him, they have taken everything he is and made him bigger, stronger, they have made him a symbol, something to strike terror into their enemies._

 _They have made him a dragon._

Someone grabs at his shoulder and Jacob jerks awake, throwing himself forward with a strangled gasp. "Don't let them," he babbles. "Don't let them do it, I don't want to change again—I just want… I want to stay me, don't… don't let them—"

"Jacob—" It's Evie, and Jacob curls up as much as he can in her arms. He is shaking and there are tears on his face. "Jacob, what happened?"

"I told you…" All thought of protecting his pride is a distant memory, all Jacob wants is to be told that everything is going to be alright, he wants to be held and cared about like he's still human. "I have dreams."

"You didn't tell me they were this bad," Evie says. She pulls him into a sitting position but even then he sags against her, shaking too badly to support his own weight.

"I told you they won't let me sleep," Jacob says. "What did you think…?"

"Sorry," Evie says. "Tell me about it, please? Please, Jacob, you can't shut me out anymore, not after this."

"It's like I'm really there," Jacob says. "I don't—I don't know where it is but it's like I'm in someone else's mind, but I'm… I'm actually him, when I dream."

"Who?"

"I don't know," Jacob says. "I dunno his name or anything, but he used to be human and then they made him a dragon."

"A dragon?"

"Big as a house and… and breathing fire and everything…" He gulps for air and can't meet Evie's eyes. "I'm still human, Evie, aren't I? I'm not like that, I'm not a monster—"

"You're human," Evie promises. "It's just… you're probably still having trouble adjusting to the wings. That's all, it's giving you nightmares where something even bigger happened."

"That's not it," Jacob says. Because maybe he doesn't know exactly what's going on in his head but the dream doesn't feel like something his mind invented. It feels real, like a memory, something that happened to someone else a long time ago. "Please believe me, Evie. I know you've always wanted wings but they're nothing but a curse. They changed my body, they're inside my dreams, they won't let me sleep, I just want to be normal again, I just…" he trails off, whimpering and exhausted.

"Shh…" Evie pulls him close and runs her hand through his hair. He's let it grow out, long and matted from where it hasn't been washed in too long, and Evie's quick, nimble fingers work patiently through the tangles. It feels nice, to let his sister take care of him, now that he's too far gone to take care of himself. "Jacob, we're going to figure this out. I promise, someday you'll be normal again. You'll be happy."

"Yea, right."

"You _will_."

"What are you going to do, Evie?" Jacob asks. "You've been studying stuff like this your whole life. Wings and whatever. If you don't know what to do, no one does."

"But you gave me a new lead tonight," Evie says. "Avalon, remember?"

Right. That thing Jacob doesn't actually remember saying. But the words hit something inside Jacob, they make his wings tense like he wants to take flight right this second and just fly forever. Maybe it does mean something. "What is it?" he asks.

"A mythical island," Evie says. "Legends say it's… where King Arthur is buried, and where Excalibur was forged."

"Excellent," Jacob says. "So the only lead we have on something that might help me is completely fictional."

"Even legends have to start from _something_ real," Evie says. "Come on, Jacob. Trust me. I'll find something."

And because she's Evie, Jacob believes her.


	3. Chapter 3

Evie has stopped bothering Jacob to sleep. After the nightmare she'd walked in on the other day, she understands why he wouldn't want to sleep. Well. Understand is probably a strong word for something as incomprehensible as whatever's going on with Jacob, but she doesn't understand it in a slightly clearer way now.

And at least Jacob isn't hiding from her anymore. He'll still go on his nighttime flights, he can't seem to help that, but when he's not flying he'll stay in the train instead of pacing back and forth on top of it. That's good news. Most nights, while Evie pours over her research, Jacob will just kind of sit there, close to her, watching her through heavy eyes, head nodding, almost but not quite asleep. Sometimes Evie will let him drift off, but as soon as he starts to look upset she'll nudge him awake.

She'll stay up the whole night with him, or at least as long as she can. Evie doesn't have nightmares like Jacob does to terrify her into staying awake, and she'll inevitably pass out on her books and papers an hour or two before sunrise. In the morning she'll wake abruptly, afraid that Jacob will have fallen asleep and into nightmares again. So far she's been—they've _both_ been lucky.

"I wish you would just take one night off," Henry says after about a week of this. "Whatever you're researching, you'll be able to focus better after a full night's sleep." He touches her arm, softly. "I'm worried about you."

"Thank you," Evie says. "I love that you're worried about me, but I need to figure this out. Jacob's hurting worse than I am, and—"

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Henry interrupts. "I know Jacob's been having nightmares, but I don't know anything else about what you're looking for."

"I don't know," Evie says. "This is Jacob's problem, I don't know if he wants to let other people know."

They both look over at Jacob, who is in the carriage with them but not really… present. He blinks and shakes his head, slowly like he has to move it through a thick fog. "Yea," he says. "Yea, 's fine. 'S just Greenie, right?" His words slur together a little, and Evie watches the sympathetic expression on Henry's face. It's not pity, but something closer to genuine sympathy. Evie's grateful for it, even if Jacob doesn't seem aware enough to notice the distinction. She doesn't want her brother to be pitied.

"So what is it?" Henry asks, looking back at Evie. "What are you looking for?"

"Avalon," Evie says. "Jacob mentioned it once, and the way he said it was—" Wrong, different, suspicious. "I've been looking for that."

"Avalon?" Henry repeats. "That's a myth, isn't it? The Apple Island."

"Apple?" Evie repeats.

"The name Avalon derives from an older word that means apple," Henry says. Like it's obvious, like everyone should know it. Evie almost smiles. Trust Henry to know something like that. But—apple.

"Do you know what that makes me think of?" she says, slowly.

"What?"

"The Apples of Eden," Evie says, and waits for the expected protest. There isn't one. Jacob is staring at his knee with a kind of abstract fascination, blinking slowly. Henry tilts his head sideways, considering.

"It's kind of a stretch," he says at last. "But the Pieces of Eden have always been connected to myths and legends. And Avalon? The whole Arthurian mythology, that's a particularly strong one. I came across rumors once, years ago, that Excalibur might have been a Piece of Eden itself. There wasn't much additional information, so I didn't think about it. But there might be other connections." His eyes light up in excitement. "I know this is important," he says, with a quick gesture behind him to Jacob. "But can you imagine what it would be like to find something like this is _true_? How much else of these legends is real? Could there be magic? Dragons?"

" _Yes_ ," Jacob says suddenly. His whole body goes stiff and he

"Jacob," Evie says, trying to keep her voice calm. She hasn't forgotten the things he said after his nightmare.

"Dragons are real," Jacob blurts, the words rushing out of his mouth like he can't keep them in. "They're—Evie, tell him—"

"He had a dream about dragons," Evie says. "That's what's been giving him nightmares."

"I was a dragon," Jacob says. " _Am_ a dragon? Will be?" His wings flare out behind him, feathers spreading out like every part of him is straining to be as large as possible. His eyes—his whole face—are wild, fiery, alive.

"You're not a dragon," Evie says.

"I might be," Jacob says. "We don't know yet."

It sounds like nonsense, but it's the kind of nonsense that has Evie worried. "People can't just turn into…" she trails off, feeling slightly ridiculous at the thought of suggesting to her newly winged brother that humans can't become dragons.

"Evie, I know you usually know better about… well, everything. But you're not having the dreams. I am. And I am absolutely positive that this happened." His eyes dart from Evie to Henry, back and forth, again and again. "I'll prove it," he says abruptly.

"How?" Evie asks.

"I'll—I can show you."

"What?" Evie asks. "The dragons?"

" _Yes_."

Evie glances at Henry, who's looking back at her. "How do you know where they are?" she asks, because maybe, just for now, humoring Jacob is the right path to take. He looks like he's about to do something crazy and stupid, which _should_ make her happy because that's exactly what the old Jacob would have done. But this seems like a different kind of crazy and stupid, a dangerous kind.

"I just…" he hesitates. For a long moment he doesn't say anything at all, doesn't move—and then he simply collapses. Evie gives a horrified cry and darts to his side, but when she's crouched over him she sees that he's just fallen asleep.

"Poor Jacob," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."

"Should we let him sleep?" Henry asks, crouching next to her.

"I…" He's already frowning, face drawn and upset in his dreams. But that stuff about finding the dragons? Crazy, absolutely crazy. Avalon she can believe, especially now that Henry's pointed out the connections to the Pieces of Eden. It must have just been Jacob hitting the absolute limit of how far he could push his body. "He should sleep," she says uncertainly. "It'll hurt him, but it'll… he needs to sleep. It'll be good for him."

Hopefully.

"Come on," Henry says, pulling her to her feet. "We'll keep looking for more information about Avalon while he's out."

"Yes," Evie says. "Good idea, yea. We can look into the Pieces of Eden, that's a new approach. We'll find something to help him. We have to."


	4. Chapter 4

This dream is different. Jacob is himself, as he had been a year ago. No wings. No twitchy feelings from lack of sleep. Just himself, clear headed and fully aware of everything that's going on around him, the way he's supposed to. He feels like an assassin again, not just a jumble of skin and bones, too many limbs in one body.

Of course, being aware of his surroundings doesn't mean he knows where exactly he is. A beach somewhere. There's a forest farther inland. A mountain. It doesn't look like any place Jacob has ever seen before, but for some reason he's not worried. Maybe it's just because it's a dream, maybe it's something else, but Jacob just has this feeling, deep in his gut, like this is where he's supposed to be.

"Hey," someone calls behind him. "Jacob."

Jacob turns around, slowly, and sees a man standing there. He's an inch or two taller than Jacob, wearing dark blue robes. They've been cut open at the back to make room for the pair of magnificent wings at his back. They're a vivid shade of blue, like the sky on a summer day, and Jacob feels the muscles in his back tense on seeing them, wings he doesn't have any more readying to fly.

"Who are you?" Jacob asks. "Where is this?"

"Just hurry up," someone says, and Jacob shifts his attention to the woman standing next to the man with wings. Her hair is bright red and pulled back from her face, which is twisted in obvious effort. "He doesn't have a wizard, Arno, I'm not going to hold him here long."

"Hold me—what's going on here?" Jacob takes several steps toward the pair, eager at the thought of finally getting some kind of answer. "Seriously, who are you people?"

"Hurry, Arno," the woman says again.

"I know, I know—" he shoots her a worried look and then turns to Jacob. "Listen," he says. "You need to be here."

"Where's here?" Jacob asks, but he knows, the answer comes rising up and out of him before Arno has a chance to say it himself. "Avalon."

"Yea," Arno says. "So you know the name, do you know what it is?"

"No."

"It's where we live," Arno says.

"People with wings?" Jacob asks.

"Yea," Arno says. "And our wizards. And the dragons."

"They _are_ real," Jacob says. "I knew it!"

"Yea," Arno says. "They're here, on the Island. Listen, Jacob, are you having the dreams?"

"I'm having nightmares," Jacob says. "Is that what you mean?"

Arno gives him a look of sympathetic understanding. "Yea," he says. "They start bad, but you need to get through them."

"They suck," Jacob says.

"And sleep deprivation doesn't?" Arno asks. "For your own health, Jacob, get some sleep. Get through the nightmares, I _promise_ it gets better. And get yourself here."

"Bring your wizard, next time," his friend says.

"What does that even mean?" Jacob asks. "What's a wizard? How am I supposed to get here? And how do you know my name, anyway, why—"

"Finish the dreams," Arno says. "That's where you'll get all your answers from. The dreams aren't just nightmares, they're our history. They're the story of the dragons, the story of how we got wings, how we got here. It's not a good story, but it'll tell you everything you need to know about why you have your wings and what that's going to mean."

"But—"

"Just do it, Jacob," Arno says.

And then Jacob wakes up. He's on the floor of the train, curled up inside his wings. Evie and Henry are somewhere nearby, the low murmur of their voices a comforting, familiar sound. Jacob doesn't move, he tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn't want them to realize he's awake yet.

He's not sure if the dream he's just had has any truth to it at all. Maybe it's just his brain making stuff up, but—it doesn't feel like it. Feels like he'd really been there, on that island, talking to Arno and his friend.

Get through the nightmares, he'd said, and Jacob… trusts him. He's got wings too. He knows what it's like. And he really wants to be able to sleep again, he just wants all this to be over. And if there is an ending, that's okay. He can make it. As long as there's a light at the end of the tunnel, Jacob can manage whatever the dreams are going to throw at him.

He's so, so tired. It's not hard to fall asleep again, even with all the things running through his head and the fear of the nightmares. Jacob just closes his eyes and… drifts off. He plunges back into nightmares, and for hours after he dreams. Horrible, painful dreams like memories. But… they _are_ telling him a story, just like Arno promised. And when he wakes up, he knows exactly what he has to do. It's the calmest he's felt for months, the most at peace he's been since growing wings. The sleep helps, definitely, but so does _knowing_.

Now he just has to tell Evie.

Hours have passed since Jacob last woke, and the train has gone dark around him. Jacob jumps to his feet, flashing to eagle vision and back in a split second, just long enough to find Evie. There she is, in her compartment, with Henry of course. Great, that's great—Jacob doesn't mind telling both of them but he doesn't want to tell the story twice. This makes everything easier.

He flies—not literally, there's no room—through the train until he gets to his sister and Henry. They both look exhausted, but Evie brightens when Jacob comes in.

"You look better," she says.

"Yea," Jacob says. "I slept, and I had this dream—well, two dreams, actually, but the first one's not as important right now." He'll tell them about Arno later, when there's more time. "Listen, I figured stuff out. About the dragons and everything. And I know where I need to go."

"Go?" Evie echoes.

"Yea," Jacob says. "Listen—"

And he begins to tell his story.


End file.
